


Ofre

by suzannahbee123



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Smut, Smut and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzannahbee123/pseuds/suzannahbee123
Summary: Old magic and wildflowers. Her scent branded on him from years past. Thor cannot turn her away when his witch appears to him again…
Relationships: Thor/Reader, thor Odinson/reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Ofre

That she is a witch isn’t a bother. She was tutored by the best. His mother only taught the most gifted witches and mages that the nine realms had to offer, after all.

The only bother, if one could call it that, was that she had appeared at his doorstep, on  _ Midgard  _ no less, fraught and wild, almost reeking of danger and old magic.

A story boils from her lips, no explanation for how she had found him in one of the most secure rooms in one of the most secure buildings that Midgard could offer, just rushed and frenzied babbling about dark elves and stolen jewels and an Aether… whatever that was.

To soothe her took time, patience… but it felt far too  _ good  _ to have this witch back in his arms. She had always been most bewitching, even when they were but babes running through the cobbled streets on Asgard.

She had been a prized pupil of Frigga’s, Thor had seen the young waif of a girl with his mother constantly, Loki with her. It was the first time he had felt anything close to jealousy.

His witch had grown up, however. Grown into the woman that would meet him in dark corners and whisper secret spells that did nothing but bring a smile to his face and weave bright magic around his heart. 

That had been then, however… before his banishment… before he had lost her due to his selfishness.

She was as lighting in the dark space of the apartment he stayed in. All bright fury and cold jagged edges. Thor knew how to control the lightning… but not her. Not when she raged so.

The suggestion of mead and merriment at the party Stark was hosting, a celebration of the successful destruction of Loki’s army and his banishment back to Asgard… and a way to release tension after Starks almost demise, was met with icy fury, sudden complete stillness that rocked Thor. Surely a little brainstorming would help assist in her plan to make safe the Aether?

_ “The future waits for no man, nor woman, Thor, son of Odin… your delay solves nothing,” _

Grasping fingers tried to hold her there, arctic cold crystallizes in his veins at the rough way her voice delivered the words. 

_ “The future does not wait for me. I shall return.” _

Empty air, the scent of wild jasmine and unnamed flowers on Asgard lingered in the space she no longer stood in.

Staring a moment longer, Thor slowly stepped back and into the bedroom, looking over the midgardian clothing he would wear to this revelment. He had earned this respite. His journey back to making safe the nine realms would continue, and soon… 

Besides… his witch with the wild eyes and heady scent of old magic and wildflowers would return. She had said so…

He could concentrate more after revelment.

***

_ “Are you ready to listen now, Thor Odinson?” _

Again, she stood, waiting, in his room, calmer now, plump lips pursed in coy amusement rather than raging anger. It did little to soothe Thor, however. The party had only made him feel aught but guilt and bitterness. His  _ brother,  _ Loki was bound in chains and would be imprisoned for the remainder of his very long life.

And Thor would be the one to send him there. The unfairness of it all soured his stomach and made him irritable,

“This is not a good time, Y/N,”

_ “Oh… but it is, Thor…” _

That  _ voice…  _ it had bewitched him then. Soothing, a little rough… it calmed him, even as it stoked his inferno higher. His witch… she could cast a thousand spells upon him, but she would never need to… 

Her voice had haunted his dreams for centuries. He belonged to her since he first laid eyes on her.

“What is it you need? What is the Aether?”

Fingers against his hair, nails softly scratching his scalp… her body, softer against his own, pressing firmly against him.

_ “I saw the future long ago, but did not understand… I do now.” _

It did not answer his question at all, but when pillow soft lips are trailing against his throat, and warm fingertips trail across the front of his clothing, Thor found he did not care so much for explanations.

The air is charged with electricity, he can feel it over the exposed skin of his shoulders. His witch, deft fingers crafted from weaving so many spells, she had removed his upper clothing. That she was still so dressed was most assuredly a bother to him,

“You’re clothing… I wish to  _ see,” _

_ “All in good time, my love… all in good time.” _

Warm mouth trailing scintillating ice down his front, a path of breathy cold that blazed an inferno inside of him. Her tongue mapped his abdominals, bright white teeth against his hip bones…

It was a private bubble. The choking remorse of ensnaring his brother… the uneasy worry about how his father would treat Loki, none of that was permitted here in this space made for him by  _ her.  _ Here, Thor could breathe, could allow the fight to die in him… before he let it forth again.

_ “You are still more beautiful than any magic I could devise,” _

Air against his thighs. This beautiful enchantress disappearing his pants and boots on a whim. Thor supposed he should feel some shock, perhaps even worry that she would hurry to expose him thusly… any words he had, however, died on his tongue… as hers was now tracing over rock hard secret flesh that flowed his desire for her, freely.

It had been so  _ long… _

_ “I saw visions long before you, my sweet God… I had to leave…” _

Her mouth, talented, powerful,  _ sinfully  _ magical mouth, became far too busy then to continue that thought. Perfect red lips, such a beautiful contrast against his golden red skin… 

Thor observed the red, only to be blinded by white in his head…  _ that  _ little trick she had not used before. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him. Her strong hands held his backside firm, however, with very…  _ deft…  _ fingers anchoring him to her.

Warm wet, soft lips, exploring tongue and…  _ that…  _ fire raced up his spine, pleasure tightens his nethers and the whole world explodes in blue white lightning behind his eyes. 

The witch captures it all and takes it as sustenance.

The world can wait. All Thor wants now is to return the favour to his beauty…

… but she does not allow that. A grunt and Thor is on his back against the soft mattress and sheets he has been told are high thread count Egyptian Cotton. 

As if any of that matters when  _ she  _ is stripping down her robes and placing them on the floor by the bed, a provocative smile the only adornment she needs before him.

Thor is a God. His need grows immediately and she smiles wider at the sight.

His hands reach for her, grasp air thick with the scent of his release and her arousal. A frown threatens to crease his face when she steps away, finger wagging at him in jest… her voice is a smooth tease…

_ “Long battles are ahead, my Thor… allow me to take care of you before I take my leave…” _

She climbs over him, moonlight and starlight caress her exposed skin, lighting her up with an almost ethereal glow.

Molten heat against his thigh… then  _ higher… _ he aches for her the most  _ there _ , but the ache is almost satisfied when she sinks herself down around him, a choked breath escaping her when he wears he fully.

_ “I forgot, my love… it has been too long…” _

It  _ had  _ been too long since she had been with him. So long ago had she left Asgard under that cloud of mystery. Even his mother had not known why, though sometimes Thor had wondered if she  _ had  _ known, but chose not to say anything.

His witch had never seen his disgrace, nor his humble return…

“My love..” she was so  _ perfect  _ above him, thought and words were hard to keep focus on in his head, “why have you come to me, now? What is the Aether?”

Whispered words in his ear, smiles against his skin and kisses against his mouth. Thor hears her, but can’t  _ listen  _ when she’s doing  _ that  _ with her hips and her nails are rasping patterns against the flesh of his pectorals…

She draws him out, makes it last, the pleasure is almost pain and lightning sparks against his skin from within…

_ “Give me your pleasure, my love…” _

It builds and builds, she’s tight and wet around him… words in languages that he has never learned to understand weave around him and the pleasure burns brighter… wildflowers and old magic and still those words in his ear and on the air… 

The burn positively  _ incinerates  _ him, inside out, desire  _ explodes _ , the world all white and lit up with lightning as his pleasure hits its crescendo.

She moves above him, rising and falling, cries of exquisite bliss fall from her lips… a moment of stillness, she takes something from her cloak and the lightning streaming from his body is corralled into…

_ A bottle? _

And then it ends. She collapses over him, breasts pushed into his chest and laboured breaths cooling the heat against his skin…

She smells of wildflowers and sex and old magic and Thor wants her forever. Wants to forget about taking his foolish brother back home and about Midgards ire at the Gods they  _ chose  _ to forget… wishes to never return to Asgard to take the throne he no longer wants…

But hours later, satisfied and lax, Egyptian cotton sheets soaked through with evidence of their passion, she gathers up her cloak and robes, and dresses silently, eyes sad as she looks him over.

“Why do I feel this is goodbye, sweet Y/N?”

_ “It is not… it is only until we meet again,” _

Hope blooms, bright and sharp, “And we will? Meet again?”

_ “Go home, Thor, son of Odin. Your people need you.” _

On those words, she leaves. Air permeated with her scent is the only indication she had been there at all.

***

The elves are attacking. Thor fights them as well as he can which, for him, is  _ very  _ well indeed. He had been tracking them, following them. Ever since he had found out what they were looking for from his father.

_ The Aether. _

Her voice rings in his head as he fights, her frenzied words from that night, however long ago it was… she had mentioned stolen jewels, hissed about an Aether… and then placed her powerfully magic hands on him and set him afire once more.

The Aether had been on earth. Thor had only found it had ever been there  _ after  _ it had been taken, the shift in the order of things enough to alert him immediately.

But, alas, it had been gone… the dark elves had also felt the disruption and so, his chase continued anew.

And it had been taken back to his  _ home.  _ Asgard under attack, and all because they thought it was here.. which was impossible.

Another elf dispatched at his hands. His Warriors doing their part as well, and so, the tide began to turn. And yet, Thor could not find their leader… could not cut the head from this snake.

_ “Thor… my love…” _

The hallway is empty of all but him, the dead… and  _ her. _

_ “I have a gift for you.” _

She stands, wringing her hands with tears glittering in her eyes. No longer wild, no longer raging… they look him over with such passionate resolve and deep sadness it takes Thor’s breath away for a moment.

_ “I cannot linger. You must follow.” _

“How are you here, now? We could have used your help just minutes ago, dear Y/N,” Thor tried for a jest, feeling too much tension from the beautiful sad image of her… a smile did not grace her lips, however.

_ “I have a gift for you… I alone knew where it was, but… I could not tell anyone, Thor. Forgive me. It wouldn’t be safe if I had told,” _

“Y/N?” He moved closer, reaching, “What did you find?”

_ “The Aether… it will be yours to protect, dear Thor,” _

A tear falls, and it’s then that Thor notices that her scent of old magic and wild flowers is  _ not  _ on the air… and the tear she sheds does not land…

His hands reach for her, and her form glitters and morphs around his fingers… an illusion.

“But where-?”

A masculine roar, a feminine bellow, and the sound of glass shattering. 

Thor streaks towards the rooms of his mother, fear overtaking his senses and constricting his breathing. The elves must not- they  _ cannot- _

He bursts in, doors thrown wide and crashing against the stone walls, a bright noise against the still silence that meets him…

Two elves are on the floor. Both dead. It is only their charred armour that gives them away, the corpses are burned, almost to a crisp. The putrid odour sticks to Thor’s nostrils, making the urge to gag almost unbearable… but the sight of his mother kneeling over the form of a body that is  _ not  _ an elf makes him pause…

He sees a flash of a beautiful profile and his heart stutters in his chest. It is  _ her...  _ and the pool of blood beneath her is too large to be anything other than a mortal wound.

“Y/N?!”

_ “Thor… sweet Thor…” _

Her smile when he reaches her is soft, almost peaceful and calm. Her fingertips dance briefly over the skin of his jaw before falling back against the marble floor.

_ “I saw this… long ago… I h-had to…” _

His knees are wet with the life that flows from her, already that pool has grown larger… there was not much time…

“Mother… can you-?”

“I cannot, Thor. Such old magic is forbidden, as well you know.” Tears shine in his mother’s eyes as she brushes his witches forehead, “She saved my life, Thor. Took the blade meant for me, and sent forth your lightning on them.”

Memories of their last night fill his head. How she rose and fell and took a bottle to capture the impossible. Old magic and wildflowers, she had been  _ magnificent… _

That beautiful smell was over layed with the too powerful scent of fresh blood now.

_ “I would dream about you, Thor… I would dream of dark corners and the taste of you on my tongue… always knowing that we would never have real sunlight together. This was why I left.” _

“Please… stay…”

_ “Here. It is yours to keep safe, now.” _

A jewel. Old and bright red… pulsing, almost…

_ “The Aether. I stole the jewel as it was old enough to withstand the power within…” _

Her voice. It was no longer rough and filled with furious  _ life.  _ It was soft, quiet… too quiet.

“Y/N? Please…”

_ “Dark corners and hushed whispers… I wish I could’ve been more for you…” _

The puddle was cool now. Thor’s tears were warm. The scent of her faded away and Thor was alone.

Again.

**   
  
  
**

**Author's Note:**

> Ofre (according to Google translate) is the Norwegian word for “sacrifice”.


End file.
